Walk on a fine line
by atomic muffin
Summary: You were born a Leonora instead of a Leo. It displeased your mother. So she changed it. Born-a-girl Leo! Gender ambiguity. FE14 semi-AU.
1. Chapter 1

Walk on a fine line

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Summary: You were born a Leonora instead of a Leo. It displeased your mother. So she changed it. Born-a-girl Leo! Gender ambiguity. Semi-AU.

Disclaimer: Fire Emblems isn't mine, and though I could use the money, I make no profit from this fic.

Rated: T, for now

Warnings: Heavy themes here folks. Like manipulation, murder, gender ambiguity. Fun, fun, fun.

Song: "Sorry about your parents", Icon for Hire

Notes: Seriously, I've no idea where this comes from. Especially when I should be working on my other fics (Kaida, if you see this, I'm soooorry), or even better working for my exams. Meh.

English isn't my native language, I'm not beta'ed. This is me appologizing in advance for the multiple ways I probably butchered grammar and decency.

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Your mother wanted a boy. A puppet to place on the throne, to be more accurate. Your mother was the kind of woman who would have been just fine popping out once in a while monkeys if it could secure her a life of pointless luxury, the right to pester sevants around, and the pride to gloat to her rivals : "See that pompous idiot sitting on his pretty seat? I _made_ him".

Unfortunatly, she got _you_. Most placid child to ever be born, _ugly_ to add insult to injury. But those small dysfunctions she could have forgiven had you not have the nerve to forget the most important parts of your developpement in the nine months you spent squatting her belly. Important parts such as _penises_.

A _girl_. Girls, as everyone well educated was aware, did not, as a matter of fact, make appropriate heir material. Especially when there were already lots of actual heir material running around.

It would not do. But your mother wouldn't let herself be held back by petty details like biology or a conscience, no, not Mother dearest. What she lacked in common sense and basic human decency she compensated with _ressources_. Such as years-long plotting skills and _magic_.

She did not went as far as actually changing you into a real testosterone-fulled piece of clay, more by lack of talent than ethics, but managed to cast a glamour powerful enough to fool everyone around you.

Including yourself.

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'Life is war', your mother taught you. Might be the only useful she did teach you.

Life is war, and you can only count on yourself. And if she hadn't convered that lesson already, your stay at Krakenburg Castle would have provided instead.

See, there was this funny thing known as Concubine War, where mothers sent their offspring to the metaphoric arena in order to destroy the concurrence that happened to be children. And boy did they destroyed. They destroyed so much only four of them remained: Xander, Heir to the Throne, Camilia, fatal beauty in the making and bright little Elise, not even out of the nursery yet.

And yourself, the Fell Dragon only know how. Honestly, you wouldn't have bet on your survival. The scrawny, not to say sickly looking, socially awkward kid, with the self-confidence and charisma of a dead fish.

 _Definitly_ not heir material, not even with a fake penis. You doubted your father ever registered your existence before you happened to be among the few children he did have left.

Your mother on the other end, oh your mother thrived on the chaos. The intrigues! The murders! The multiple occasions to crush your rivals into the mud! All she ever wanted in life, minus that pathetic burden she had to drag along, but what's a minor setback when she practically got licence to kill women with prettier hair? Or have killed, more precisely. Your mother never was the type to get her hands dirty after all.

All in all, it was all fun and giggles for her until she got herself murdered.

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It took three days after your mother's funeral for her spell to vanish. There you went, minding your own buisness, confined into your rooms, drifting without purpose like a dog that just lost its master.

And then! You woke up, eyes blurry from another sleepless night spent crying with a knife under your pillow, into the _wrong body_. The body of seven years old, yes, that did looked like yours, you even still had the ugly scar from that one time one of your older sisters stabbed you in the leg. Mother did make her pay for that. Fun times.

But it was _wrong wrong wrong_.

You spent two days into a hazy panic, convinced that this was all a plot from one of the last remaining Concubines, though a needlessly complicated one. You went through all your mother's magic books like a mad hurricane of terror. It was, after all, one of the few things you were actually good for, _studying_. 'My nerdy bookworm', Mother called you on her rare moments of fondness. Those happened sometimes, not very often to be truthful. Most of the time, she called you 'boy', just in case you weren't sure.

But you were sure. You had no idea. It never even crossed you mind, that your own parent, that _anyone_ might alter you in such way. Not for a second.

Yet here layed the evidence. The glamour spell, in her favorite book, the one she kept close to her at all times, the one you had been strictly forbidden from reading. She had even annoted the page with personal observations and ameliorations, born out of seven years of constant trial.

Your whole world, or what was left of it, crumbled under your feet.

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Surprisingly, it was Xander who took upon himself to schedule a rescue mission.

You did not doubt Camilla pestered him about it, as she kept on showing up at your door on a daily basis to try to lure out of your lair. In retrospect, it seemed pretty oblivious your older sister acted out on the worry you might have died on your own spit or something. At the time however, in your feverish paranoid near-madness, you were absolutly convinced she was trying to get you to lower your guard in order to kill you.

Not that she would have any problem to. You were quite pathetic back then.

But anyway, one morning, it was your older brother that camped on your door, instead of your usual violet-haired most persistent sollicitor.

"Leo," he called out, his voice strong and even. "Please let me in."

You let him in. You still had no idea why. Perhaps you knew he wouldn't let you be anyway, perhaps some parts of you longed for the approval of your big brother.

Perhaps you were just that _tired._

Xander, as tall and unbreakable as a tree, stood there and gasped at the improbable sight you must have made. "Leo?"

You shrank under his incredulous stare. You wondered what he could think, seeing you like this, a messy pile of proeminant bones, crass and self-loathing. You still had your knife beetween your shaking hands, the one Mother had given you for your fifth birthday.

"Life is war, boy. You'll need it", she had whispered into your ear, because your mother had been like that. Cynic and ruthless enough to gift a weapon to her five-year old child, and feel nothing about it.

Xander knelt in front of you, and you froze like a rabbit. Mother would have been so ashamed. You waited for the strike as his hands fell on your shoulder, then slided on your skinny back.

He embraced you.

You stayed rigid under the foreign touch, terrified and confused. Of the back-stabbing at first, and then when the blows did not come, that he discovered your dirty, _dirty_ secret. You couldn't remember the last time anyone touched you like this, embracing every parts of you. Surely Xander would feel the _wrongness_ of your body?

You should have put the glamour back in place, you knew. You could have, you were talented enough in magic to. It would have been easier, safer, to burry that inapropriate body under the familiarity of the spell, and be done with it.

But you couldn't. The simple thought of subjecting your flesh to magic again, to violate yourself again to the will of others, this time on purpose made you want to puke. It was intolerable.

Fortunatly, if Xander noticed anything strange, he showed none of it. You began to relax a little, and his hold got even tigher. It felt kinda... _nice_. In a way.

"I'm so sorry, Leo," your invincible big brother cried into your shoulder. _Cried_. "I failed you, I failed all of you."

And then he released you for his shaking arms, and faced you with red eyes and a iron resolve. You knew at that moment you would follow this man into the end of the world.

"But I would do better now I promise. I will take care of you Leo."

And Xander always had been nothing but a man of his word. Unlike yourself.

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You had no idea what you were. Boy or girl? Female or male? What was the truth, what was the lie?

You felt like a boy, for sure. You had been a boy all your short life after all. Then be it. It was easier being a boy anyway.

And yet, you wondered. You stared at skirts for too long, yearned of the softness of ribbons. Some nights, you imagined yourself with long silky hair, fancied yourself into a pretty dress. Some nights the simple thought of changing anything terrified you.

Camilla _fascinated_ you. Your sister had barely reached her thirteenth birthday, yet she already flourished as a confident woman, parading her feminity like a magnificient cloak. You could feel her growing curves when she hugged the hell out of you, soft in ways you were terrified and impatient in the time to grow into.

And boy did she hugged you. Camilla had that ridiculous notion they all belonged to the same loving family, and kept mothering you all furiously, even Xander. Elise naturally thrived on the attention, Xander subjected himself to Camilla's nosiness without much protestation, but you remained wary. You remembered still how ruthless and cunniving her mother had been, so much the King had her executated in the end. Not that you had lots of room to talk about.

You were pretty sure it was Camilla's mother that got your own _killed_. It did put a strain to the growing sibling relashionship the violet-haired princess aimed for. But Camilla was nothing if stubborn, and eventually wormed her way in into those barriers you errected around your heart.

They all did in the end. Elise only had to smile that sunny beam of hers at you and you melted like pouty beetween her tiny hands. Xander you craved too much the approval of to even consider disobey. Your indifferent father, you had long stop carying for but you wanted to be their little brother so much it hurt sometimes.

And yet the urges remained. You were eight when you stole your first dress. A rather sad piece of clothe, falling appart on the edges that belonged to one of the younger maids. You kept it hidden in your chest for a week before daring to try it on.

The dress, not the maid.

It did not suited you naturally. If only because the dress was made for older girls, and you lacked the necessary parts to fill it appropriately. You looked positively ridiculous. You kept the dress anyway.

All in all, you thought you handled yourself well enough, beetween Court intringue, the ever growing expectations of your duties as second Prince, and your close-knit siblings. You still werent't sure what you were, aside from a _freak_ , but it was fine. Miraculously, your siblings seemed to like your nerdy, awkward self well enough.

And then came _Corrin_.

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	2. Chapter 2

Walk on a fine line

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Summary: You were born a Leonora instead of a Leo. It displeased your mother. So she changed it. Born-a-girl Leo! Gender ambiguity. Semi-AU.

Disclaimer: Fire Emblems isn't mine, and though I could use the money, I make no profit from this fic.

Rated: T, for now

Warnings: Heavy themes here folks. Like manipulation, murder, gender ambiguity. Fun, fun, fun.

Notes: English isn't my native language, I'm not beta'ed. This is me appologizing in advance for the multiple ways I probably butchered grammar and decency.

Special thanks to Caellach Tiger Eye, your review honestly made my day!

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You've known jealousy before. Of course you had. You'd been jealous of your siblings, for being less shy, less weak, less _you_. The sudden bursts of greed, the slow rampant feelings of envy were as familiar to you than the glint of magic beetween your fingers or the condescending whispers of your mother in your ear.

But not like that. Not this overwhelming, crippling _hate_.

Of course, it had little to do with Corrin himself, and everything with your bitter, treacherous heart. You weren't so far gone not to understand the nuance after all. But you couldn't help it either.

There layed the basic difference beetween you and your siblings, _selfishness_. When Father had called the four of you to announce the 'great news', they had been overjoyed. Well, Elise and Camilla, because Xander was too cool for 'overjoyed', but he did had that small smile that meant happiness.

You? You only felt _threatened_. As if you were still your mother's puppet in this arena of theirs, and a new contender had just arrived, ready to compete for the affection of your siblings. The only cause you actually _wanted_ to fight for.

You walked into that dreadful castle of his with the firm intention to detest your new brother, and you did. Oh, how much you did. He made it easy, ironically, by being so loveable. Had he displayed some kind of flaw, _anything_ , you could have forgiven him the intrusion on your meticously-arranged life. But no, not marvellous, wonderful _Corrin_.

"My lovely Corrin", Camilla crooned after what, a few days of actually meeting him. It had taken years for her to notice you, even more to _appreciate_ you. You told yourself the fault lied more in the difference of situation than personalities. But deep down you knew. Camilla loved you to pieces, just like she loved Xander or Elise, because that devotion to her family ran into her very blood. She had make it so, as if to compensate for her mother's wrongs to that same family. Camilla loved you by duty, but _Corrin_ , Corrin she adored by _choice_.

"Big brother Corrin!" Elise practically radiated adoration. Your little sister had been so scared of you at first. It made sense after all, you had been born and raised out of the darkness of Nohr, while Elise impersonated the Sun itself in human flesh. One gloomy and taciturn prince, who diverted his time beetween learning the Dark Arts and lurking into the shadow, and a lovely princess, always seeing the best into everyone, even those who hardly deserved the bother. You were as different as night and day, Elise and you. Your little sunshine deserved someone as warm as she was, and the Fell Dragon knew you could never fill that role for her. You just wished _Corrin_ wouldn't be able to either.

"You did good, little prince," Xander would smile, _smiled_ at that shameless _upstart_. So he could yield a sword better than you, big deal. You hated sword fighting. Not because of the pratice itself, but because the fear of betraying your _condition_ paralyzed you. But sword fighting you were expected to learn, so sword fighting you learned. Despite your crippling fear, after a while you did alright. But Corrin, a weapon in hands, did better than alright. He _shone_. And _he_ didn't hesitated to go to Xander, when you contented yourself to admire the man who considered as your salvation from afar.

What use was there for you now, with this better version of a brother? An _actual_ brother, not a fallacy of one like you, trying so pathetically to hide your freakishness under oversized clothes and a devil-may-care attitude.

It was pure hell, those two first weeks you spent at the Northern Forteress. The more you tried to avoid Corrin the more he made the effort to seek you out, with those freaky redish pupils reaching out with earnest warmth. That fool. You could have _killed_ him. You would have killed him, if not for your siblings in the next room.

And then it hit you. Had your mother felt that way too? This poison, this _cancer_ slowly but surely invading your mind, corrupting your thoughts, destroying everything you worked for?

And here you had thought you had gotten rid of her. But the sickness ran into your very blood, into your bones, into your head.

You couldn't run away from that prison fast enough.

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By the third time your siblings had decided to make the trip to the Northern Forteress and to drag your reluctant self along with them, you had stopped all forms of resistance alogether. Life is war, but some battles are not worth to be fought for, you reminded yourself as you stared morosly at the country side through the window of the carriage.

Battles like say no to the combined force of Xander's disappointed stare, Camilla's insisting pout and Elise's smile. A smart tactician had to understand their own limits, and you just had reached yours.

You resigned yourself to be shipped off to that dreadful Forteress every three months or so and spent a week avoiding human contact, especially _Corrin_ 's. You couldn't still managed to call the boy brother. That title belonged to Xander, and Xander alone.

Nonetheless, after many hours of peregrination, you had somehow found a quiet place to hide yourself from your self-imposed nemesis. A peaceful alcove, hidden behind a shelf, with a window, a confortable seat, and a distinct lack of _him_. Add some warm conforters and plenty of books, and you would get as close of heaven you could reach into this poor excuse of a castle.

Except by the time you had managed to skip most the touching reunion beetween Corrin and co, and reached your usual spot with the firm intention not to leave it until dinner time at least, your sacred place had been already _sacked and desanctified_.

You stared at a blue-haired girl in maid uniform, reading one of _your_ books into _your_ seat with your meanest, more threatening glare. To your defense, the trip had been just _endless_ , with your sisters relaying themselves to recount their beloved brother Corrin's many _many_ accomplishments.

The girl stared back, with icest shade of blue you had ever saw into a human iris, unbothered and cool as a cumcumber. "Yes?"

"It's my book," you answered the inquiry, your teeth almost grinding in anger. And your seat and your window and your damn alcove. _Get out get out get out._

She closed the book resting on her lap, and gratified you with a polite nod. "I appologize then for my rudeness. But to be fair, how was I to know?"

A fine point, you had to admit reluctantly. You would have as well, had you not been in such an awful mood, and unlikely to be as reasonable as usual. The maid must have seen it as well, as she rose gracefully from your seat before bowing in apology.

"Please forgive me my Lord, I meant no offence. May I be excused now?"

You nodded accordingly, your anger reciding only to leave place for unconfort. You were more than used to deference from servants, after so many years living into the palace, but somehow her attitude, though impeccable, left you in unease. _Wrong_. The blue-haired maid held herself straight as an arrow, proud and regal despite the position of apparant submission. As if she had been born and raised to _rule_ , not to serve.

You would learn later about the two Ice Tribe hostages, the twin daughters of the rebel chieftain. Flora and Felicia, healers, Ice users, warriors, _leaders_ , old enough to be useful yet young enough to be influenceable, shipped off to the Northern Fortess to play servants for _Corrin_. Sometimes you had no idea how your royal father thought _at all_.

"Wait," you called at her retreating back. She froze, and turned back towards you, her face as impassable as before. Did _nothing_ reach that girl? You had seen older maids freak out for far less.

"Milord?"

"I may have been a bit...rash," you admitted, your cheeks blushing faintly with embarrassment. Xander, equally fair to everyone and their cousin, would have been ashamed of your childish attitude. "You're free to use..." And what was it exactly? Your refuge, your heaven, your _cave_? "the place as you will."

After all, nothing in this castle truly belonged to you.

The maid nodded along, thanked you for your 'kindness', and then left to attend towards her duties. You knew from her closed face you would never caught her dead near that alcove ever again.

Pity. In retrospect, you could have used the company of someone who would read willingly "Nohrian Agriculture through the Ages', the non-abreged version, in their free-time.

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You loved libraries at night. There was something surreal, almost religious about walking among the shelves full of knowledge waiting to picked up, with only a frail candle against the darkness. You used to be so scared of the dark, as a child, but not anymore. You were a prince of Nohr after all. By right, darkness was your kingdom, and silent libraries your churches.

But that night it would seem you wouldn't get to be alone for your usual late prayer.

"And th...then the so...sword pierced th..thr...through? Dammit!"

Curious, you blew your own candle and drew closer to the light. Next to a wavering candle, his white-haired head deep into a thin book, a boy sat with a clear expression of frustrated concentration. Corrin.

"What are you doing?" you stepped into the light, intrigued enough to approach the relative you usually spent so much effort avoiding.

Corrin jumped at the unexpected noise, and you held back a snort at his obliviousness. Had you been an enemy, brother dearest would have been long dead. No wonder he had to be kept away from everything. The poor thing wouldn't hold a second into the real world, despite Xander's many praises.

"He..hey Leo," he greeted you awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. "What...what are you doing here this late?"

You drew even closer, attracted like a shark to fresh blood to your sibling's clear discomfort. "I asked first, _brother_."

Corrin hastily closed the book, as if to remove it from your inquiring sight. Not such luck. "Just...studying."

Your eyebrow couldn't have risen higher had you tried. "What, at this hour of the night? I hadn't thought you the studious type."

You really, really hadn't. As a rule, Corrin had seemed to avoid the library like the plague, which suited you just fine. Besides, 'smartass nerd' always had been your mark, you doubted you could have taken it silently had your rival took that from you too.

At that, Corrin laughed self-deprecatingly. "Yeah, not really. But with you guys here, I kinda lost track of my studies. It's really great to have you all here, but if I don't catch up Gunther will gut me alive."

You sincerely doubted that affirmation. As far as you had seen, the former general, universally feared and respect for his record of successes the lenght of Father's megalomania, doted on the brat as if the prince was his own flesh and blood.

As most people here by the way. Corrin's sociopath of butler cooed on him like the Messiah, and actively concurrenced Camilla for the title of Most Embarrassing Stalker. Felicia, Flora's clueless and clumsy twin version, clearly adored your brother in her own awkward way. Silas, the son of low noble sent to the Forteress to entertain the lonely prince, regarded his friend with nothing less than his limitless devotion. Even Flora, who despite the ambient madness appeared to remain in possession of all her mental faculties, seemed to appreciate your brother's cheerful if desesperantly naive personality.

There were no escape to the Corrin Fan Club in the Northern Forteress, if not for complete isolation and resilient hope for more auspicious days to come.

"I'm sure my siblings could spare some time in your schedule for the greater sake of learning if you asked them to. Xander or Camilla could also help..."

"No!" you both jumped, startled at Corrin's loud protest. "I mean, it's fine, I don't want to bother them..."

 _Bother_? Camilla probably wouldn't find it a bother to throw herself from the highest tower would Corrin ask her to, so _lessons_? She'd kill for an occasion to play teacher for her dearest Corrin.

"Oh I doubt it would be a bother, _trust me_ ," you replied with heavy sarcasm, as you leaned on the table and finally got a peek of the book the white-haired prince had been tried to hide from you.

The _Tales of Ser Henry and Lady Esmerelle_? You remembered reading those to Elise not a month ago. Why would Corrin be reading a book meant for _children_ in the middle of the night?

And then it hit you. "You don't know how to read, do you?"

At your question, Corrin seemed to shrink on his seat, his face red with shame. "I'm..I'm still having trouble. I didn't wanted you guys to know, so...well..."

So he came in the dead of the night when he thought no one would see him to exercice. Oh. You hadn't expected that from your perfect brother. "They wouldn't think less of you, you know."

"Oh well, maybe not," he admitted thoughtfuly, before staring right at your smirking face. "But _you_ would."

Your bemused smirk froze on your face. You weren't sure what do with that accusation, if it was even one. True, you valued intelligence and thirst for knowledge among all qualities, but it didn't meant you were oblivious to the rest. Elise for instance considered lessons as the most boring occupation ever invented by humankind, and you didn't thought less of her. Her strengh simply relied in other areas.

On the other hand, you did feel pity for your brother, despite all your previous hostility. Not because you thought him stupid for his illeteration, but because you couldn't concive a world where you wouldn't be able to read. Books always had been your refuge, your salvation, when you had no one else to care for you, and no reason to live.

Without books to loose yourself into, you would be long dead.

"Why would you care about my opinion?" you chose to neither confirm or deny Corrin's previous statement.

He stared back at you, as if you were the dumb one not to see the oblivious. "Because you're my brother, wether you like it or not. Of course I care about your opinion."

It took all your self-restrain not to openly gasp at your oddly provocative relative. "What? That's..."

"Stupid? Yes, I'm aware that's what you think of me," he interrupted you, his usual smile contorsioning into a bitter snarl. "Sorry not to be as _smart_ as you are, Leo!"

This was spinning out of control lightening fast. And you hated to loose control. "Wait. What are you talking about?"

"That's why you hate me right?"

A laugh escaped your throat before you could stop it. "No. Absolutly not. I honestly have no idea how you came to that conclusion."

Corrin's anger deflated visibly. "Oh. Well, why then?"

Your hilarity disappeared as quickly as it came. Ah. That was a difficult question. One you would have been fine never to talk about, especially with the recipient of your childish there was no point denying your visceral loath of your brother, it would seem. "It's...complicated. I don't really hate you. I mean, I don't hate you _because_ of you."

"Oh. That's...incredibly vague and unhelpful. Thanks, I guess?" Corrin frowned, puzzled, before smirking at you. "Besides, did you just give the 'It's not you, it's me' talk?"

He laughed at his own joke, before sobering at your blushing cheeks. "Wait, you're not _jealous_ , right?

Your face turned an unheatly shade of red, and you avoided your brother's incredulous stare without answering. You knew you acted childishly already, not need for him to mock you further.

"Leo, _are you for real_?" Corrin gestured wildly. "What's to be jealous of? I'm the dumb prince stuck in middle of nowhere because Father is too ashamed of me to let me show my face in public! And you're _you_!

"And what's that suppose to mean?" you finally snarled back.

"Well, I don't know, that Father isn't ashamed of _you_! That Xander, Camilla and Elise think the world of you! That's you're smart, charismatic, funny, and strong. You know at least a hundred spells already, and you could kick my ass without thinking! So really, Leo, I'm asking you, _what's to be jealous of?"_

No, it was all a lie. Your siblings loved Corrin best. After all, you were a silly, anti-social, buzz-killer, weak, _girl_. Not the perfect brother like Corrin was, despite his protests.

A freak, and a liar. But Corrin couldn't know that, would he?

You couldn't stand his imperious glare anymore. You left without another word, hiding into the comfort of dark. Darkness, after all, never judged when you felt the need to cry your worth in salt.

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No better for introspection time than sleepless nights, you remembered reading once. You weren't sure about introspection, but after many hours of twisting and turning in your bed, restless with anxiety and self-recrimination, by morning you had finally made your decision. You had been a stupid, self-centered _child_ , worse even, you had been the selfish monster your mother had raised to be. But you would fix it even it killed you. Now you just had to get Corrin to roll with it. Easy.

Your siblings had already started their breakfast when you decidly walked to the ancient table. Corrin looked as bad as you felt, with bags under his eyes the size of an empire. None of your siblings paid you any unusual attention, aside from polite greetings. So Corrin hadn't spoken of last night's _incident_. Yet.

"Good morning," you greeted everyone with an even tone. Xander nodded back at you, while Elise waved enthusiacally instead of answering, her mouth filled with a toast.

Corrin mumbled a 'good morning' without looking at you. Well. That could be a problem for your plans. Nevermind.

"Hello darling," Camilla smiled at you. "My, you don't look so good either Leo. Spend the whole night in your books again?"

Elise snickered at the jab and gratified you with her usual 'neeerd!', right on clue. What a cheeky brat. And Corrin, incontestad king of obliviousness, blushed and looked like he wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the floor this instant. _That idiot_ , you thought with unexpected fondness.

"Thanks sister," you retorted with heavy sarcasm. "Exactly what I needed on this fine morning, someone to tell me how ugly I look today."

"Anytime, my darling brother. I live to serve," the violet-haired princess replied, unbothered by your rebellious tone.

Xander sighed at your antics. "Enough, the whole of you. Leo, we already talked about 'not abusing your health' I believe. I know how seriously you take your studies, and fully support you, but we got to draw the line _somewhere_."

"I'm sorry, brother, it won't happen again," you lied dutifully, as your younger sister took the occasion to drove the final nail on your coffin. "Yeah, big bro, your zombie look is hurting my eyes!"

"Elise," the crown prince gave his younger sister a stern look, the one who worked wonders on everyone _but_ the cheerful princess, before diverting his attention to the next target. "About you Corrin..."

"I'm so sorry!" the until then mute prince blurted suddenly, looking straight at you, before adverting his eyes, mortified. Couldn't someone, _anyone_ , teach that fool the subtle art of discretion. The things you had to do for family. "I mean, I don't feel so well today..."

The other three were suddently on the uproar at the admission. Even your brother's creepy butler, who until then had been utterly motionless next to his master, broke his composture.

"Are you sick, my sweet Corrin?" Camilla started to fret, her breakast completly forgotten.

"Err, not really," the albinos prince blushed at the attention. Really, shouldn't he be used to it now? "I just didn't slept well that night, no big deal!"

You sighed in exasperation as the whole table relaxed with relief. Crisis adverted.

"Well, I know exactly what to do to cheer your up, brother!" Elise giggled in anticipation to whatever michief she had concocted. "How about after breakast we..."

"Not possible," you interrupted your sister's blabbling. "Corrin is already taken this morning."

Everyone turned to look at you with various degrees of surprise, including Corrin himself who stared at you fearfully with comically big eyes.

Now came the moment of truth. Corrin could ever choose to play along, and try to salvage that disastrous relation of yours. Or he could expose your duplicity to your siblings, _right now_. You hoped no one could see your hands shaking on your lap.

"He is?" asked Elise, bemused.

"I am?" repeated Corrin, before gasping as you pleaded him silently to play along. "Err, I mean, yes, definitly, I had forgotten about that. Sorry Leo?"

"It's fine," you dismissed his concern with a magnamous smirk. You doubted you ever felt so relieved in your whole life.

Camilla leaned on the table with a predatory smile. "Is that so? May the rest of us know why?"

"Sure," you shruggled with fake confidence, as Corrin hung on your every words. "We're _studying_."

Next to his bemused master, the butler, Jakob you suddently remembered cleared his throat. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid Lord Corrin already have an lesson planned with Lord Gunther."

Jakob, though he claimed to be asking for forgiveness could as well have been trying to pierce your skull with his only eyes. He must knew about his master's reading little problem, and attempted to save him the embarrassment with a false pretext. What had Corrin done to earn himself such an unwavering loyalty, you could only speculate.

"Nonsense," Xander dismissed with a scowl. "We already cleared Corrin's schedule for the week with Gunther."

"Err, sorry Jakob, I forgot to tell you about that thing Leo and I had planned," Corrin silently pleaded his butler to let the matter go. The servant nodded and bowed in apology to both his master and the crown prince. "And Elise, I'm sorry, another time? I'm sure Silas would be glad to play with you instead."

The princess brightened a bit a the prospect, she did liked her brother's kind friend very much. But on the other hand, Camilla couldn't be trusted to let the matter go that easely. "My, what a lovely idea! Are we invited as well?"

You smirked at her. "Sorry sister, it's a private party. Little brothers allowed only."

Corrin's stunned smile could have blinded the sun

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Naturally, your desatrous relashionship with Corrin, or lack thereof, did not mend itself othernight by a single gesture of good faith. Your brother might the most forgiving Nohrian you had met, aside from Elise, but his blind trust had, fortunatly, limits. But he was more than willing to open his heart to his reluctant, awkward younger brother, despite that awful beginning of yours, as long as you tried.

And tried you did. Unfortunatly, being a teacher did not come easily to you. You simply lacked the patience, and the drive. What came as oblivious to you requiered more explanation and time to Corrin, to everyone really. Not that Corrin could considered as dumb, far from it, despite what he had said to you. It was just that you were, well, _you_.

But before you knew it, you were actually looking forwards to those little trips to the Northern Forteress, eager to battle against Elise or Camilla for your brother's precious time.

"Not fair!" Elise had pouted after you snatched a embarrassed Corrin from her deceitfully evil clutches. "It's my time to play with Big Brother, stupid Leo! Give him back!

And that would the moment you stuck your tongue at her and casted a spell to turn the two of you invisble to your raging sister's eyes, because you were so not above such childishness. What could you say, Elise had that talent to bring out the kid in you.

You quickly came to the conclusion that Corrin had to have been a fungus in another life. Give him a small overture, _anything_ , and he'll grow on you like some kind of ravenous infection. One you weren't trying very hard to fight against, you had to admit. Your brother was just so _warm_ you couldn't help but be drown to him like a moth to a flame, despite your reluctance.

Eventually, you managed to get your life into relative order. Prince Leo, the tactical and mage genius, little Leo, the reliable but awkward brother, Leo, Corrin's teacher, and that _other Leo_ , hidden among sleepless nights and shamefull dreams.

And then came _Niles_.


	3. Chapter 3

Walk on a fine line

Summary: You were born a Leonora instead of a Leo. It displeased your mother. So she changed it. Born-a-girl!Leo. Gender ambiguity. Semi-AU

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Rated: T

Warnings: Manipulation, murder, gender ambiguity

Note: English is not my first language, and I'm not beta'ed. I apologize in advance for the spelling mistakes that likely escaped my vigilance.

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You knew, _knew_ , taking Niles as your retainer was a mistake. You had functioning eyes after all. Niles' life, from his conception to that desastrous plan to steal from the royal tresor could be resumed as an incredible amount of unfortunate errors and awful decisions.

Niles himself _was_ a mistake, and he knew it too well. You could relate to that, if reluctantly.

"Should I lead him to the dungeons, my Prince?" the guard asked you rethorically with a nod of genuine respect. You preened internally at the gesture. Respect born out of your rank, you were used to. But respect born out of your actions, now that was a fresh novelty.

Still high with adrenaline running in your veins, you assessed your prize skeptically. On his knees, gagged and bounded, the thief returned your stare with impassive, unimpressed, _dead_ eyes. And it unsettled you.

You decided on a impulse. You never decided anything out on a whilm, your mother had beaten the compulsion out of you long ago. Well, your mother wasn't here anymore. "No. Leave us."

Both guard and prisonner stared at you with surprise. "Your Highness..."

You glared at the soldier, proud and regal. You might not look very impressive with your skinny eleven-years old body, but you had just taken down a full grown-man on your own. A malnourished, desesperate man but still, the point stood. And even if you hadn't, you stayed a prince of Nohr, born and raised as such.

The guard left without another word.

Your prisonner watched you approach with casual indifference. As if nothing mattered to him anymore. You would have expected fear, wraith, hate.

But nothing. You _loathed_ the sight. Such a careless indifference reminded you of Father.

The tip of your fingers fell on the dirty white hair, and you miraculously managed to stop your hand from shaking. You hadn't touched a man since the occasionnal brush your brother granted you. Xander had not hugged you since _that_ day, and neither Elise, despite her intensely tactile disposition. Camilla had at first, embracing almost on a daily basis as if to compensate for years of mutual indifference. But eventually she had noticed how you avoided any form of physical contact, and held her impulses in check for your sake, as Elise did.

Which was good, _obviousl_ y, but. But. You were only human after all. Because you couldn't allow yourself the proximity didn't meant you didn't craved for it.

Without much ceremony, you removed the gag from your thief's mouth. And waited.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" you finally said, exasperated with the silent glare contest.

His voice, low, gravelly and monocord almost surprised you. "Like what."

"I don't know. Beg for mercy perhaps?" At that point, they all begged. The thiefs, the rapists, the murderers.

"Oh my, you want me to _beg_?" he laughed, cruel and bitter. "Ain't you a bit young to be into that kinky shit, _my prince_?"

The blush crept on your cheeks and inbrased your skin without your consent. No one spoke to you about _those things_ , but you understood the imply all right. "Fine, have it your way."

"Wait," he shook his head as you moved to put the gag back in place. "Kill me."

You froze, your hand still on his face. You could hear _her_ voice still, whispering into your innocent ear. " _Come on, silly boy. Life is war._ "

"What."

"You heard me. You got me, congrats, now you gotta finish the job."

No. Absolutly no. You didn't murder in cold blood disarmed people. That was what your mother did. Against your chest, your magical tome _burned_.

"Why would I do that?" You managed to ask with a tone of polite curiosity.

Instead of answering, the Nohrian looked at you. Truly looked, like no one really bothered. As if he could _see_ you, all the you, the fears, the incertainties, the _secret_ , and not only the cold-hearted second prince image most people stopped to.

Sometimes Camilla looked at you like that. It scared you shitless, her purple timeless orbs staring at you with affection and wonder and _understanding_.

But those eyes, the thief's eyes, of a surprisingly untainted blue, they enthralled you into a daring dance you weren't sure to be leading. "Have you seen public execution before, little Prince?"

You had. Even sweet Elise had, despite Camilla's protests. Father's orders. She had hidden her face into her older sister's skirts, but you had watched until the end. The walk of shame of a starving criminal, the humiliation the public put him through, the death without honour.

An ugly way to die. But the criminal had deserved it, just as your thief did. Didn't they?

"Very well," you said, your tone monocord and emotionless.

Your hands, sleek and white, reached for your knife, the very one Mother dearest had gifted to you so long ago. Just another proof you had never stopped carrying her sins and yours against your skin.

The blade glinted against the white-haired _boy_ 's neck. You had called him a man, because you didn't wanted to see otherwise, but really he couldn't have been older than eighteen. A broken boy staring at you on his knees with rage and hurt and an ocean of resignation burrying it all. You looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and thought _fuck it._

"From now on, the person you were is dead, and a new you is born. You will serve me, and I will take care of you. You will be my eyes, my ears, my hands, my will."

A bit thick on the drama side, but you liked to think the gravity of the moment called for it. He gaped at you, unbelieving, and you stared back. You silently rejoiced to get a reaction for this smirking wall of a man, at last.

"What the..?" and then he frowned and snarled. "I won't be your _puppet_ , boy!"

"No," you agreed. "My retainer. Niles."

Niles. Nihil. Nothingness. It fit, somehow, you decided on a whim. You certainly worked on your impetuous side that day. You had no idea you even had one of those before.

You knew taking Niles as a retainer would likely turned out to be a mistake. First of all because allowing anyone close to you was by itself a risk. And mostly because Niles, the thief, the liar, the pervert, could in no way claim to be truthworthy, even less appropriate retainer material.

At the time however, you could not find yourself to care _at all_ about those valid arguments. You had decided the thief, the liar, the pervert, the broken boy would be _yours_ , and so he would be.

It might have been a mistake, but it was _your_ mistake, and you would be damned before you let anyone take that from you. Especially the ghost of a long-dead _bitch_.

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"Really Leo?"

"Yes brother. Really."

"Of _all men_ in Nohr, you had to choose _this one_!"

"I'm sorry about the inconveniance."

"You're...that's not the point. Are you absolutly _sure_ , little brother?"

Pause. "No. But sometimes you have to do things you're not absolutly sure about. I've been told it's a major issue of life."

"...Fine. But I will be watching him _very_ closely"

"I have no doubt."

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As far as you were concerned, you owned exactly two things to your father: your siblings, and Brynhildr. For the former no explainations were needed. About the later, you had never felt so proud than when your genitor and Lord had decided to hand you over one of the sacred weapon of their country. Brynhildr, the one who command trees in a land Nature itself had abandoned. It held less prestige than Sigrid, for sure, but it had been confided to _you_ , the first magical tome you hadn't inherit from your mother.

Xander, Camilla, Elise, Corrin and Brynhildr. Nothing more, nothing less.

Needless to say you held little respect, and even less love for the man you allegatly owned your life to. You might refer to Garon as your king, but you would never consider your father the man who let his children slaughter each over and did nothing. Unlike Xander, who kept looking for the supposedly affectionate man Garon used to be instead of the cruel excuse for a human being _you_ had always know.

"Father," you bowed nonethless in front of the Throne, your face blank as ever. "You asked for me?"

It had been quite a while since the King had requiered your presence specifically, ever since you had been granted Brynhildr actually, a few months ago. After all the task to represent the royal next generation usually fell on Xander's sturdy shouders, or occasionally Camilla's, while Elise and you had taken the habbit to remain in their shadows.

Which suited you just fine. The less people to pay any attention to you, the better.

Xander stood next to you, a strong but silent support at your side. His heated glare burned your cheek, and you heard the unsaid warning. ' _Don't do anything stupid, foolish little brother_.'

You promised nothing. Got to keep your big brother on his toes after all.

"Ah, Leo," Garon finally deigned to aknowledge your existence. Joy. "I heard of your... _exploit_ with our little rat problem."

Refering to his own starving citizens, admittidly not the most upstanding ones, as _rats_. Typical.

"I only did my duty as a Prince of Nohr," you replied neutrally. ' _The duty you have abandonned, Father'_ , you added silently.

Standing next to the Throne, the new shooting star among your Father's usual crowd of sycophant, Iaga or some equally ridiculous partonym, snorted at you. Xander only had to scowl at his painted face for the mage to dropped his smug in fear. You smirked discretly at your brother's protectiveness. He could never help himself, could he? As if you had anything to fear of those good-for-nothing parodies of mages.

"Yes, yes," Garon dismissed your heartfelt display of patriotism to go straight to the point. "But I also heard you took that _scum_ as your retainer, instead of leading him to the gallows as expected."

There came the delicate part. You could neither appear too submissive, or the Court would eat you alive, nor too arrogant to offend your quick to anger Father. "The man managed to fool the palace defense without much trouble. It seemed like a waiste of good ressources to me."

The painted councelor, apparently recovered from his fright of Xander, stared at you angrily. You had little doubt who exactly told the King about your private affairs. The sneaky bitch.

"Oh? _You thought_ , didn't you? When did that happened?" your loving paternal laughed openly at you, followed by the mocking whispers of Court.

Next to you Xander gritted his teeth in outrage at your behalf and Camilla's sweet smile promised later retribution to anyone who would dare laugh too loud about your predictment. Sweet. Like you cared about any of _their_ opinions. Although your father, despite his total indifference in your regard showed surprising knowlegde of your character. You had no idea he would have enough interest in you to know where to hit on your most prideful spot: your intelligence.

My, you could almost assume he _cared_. For shame.

As you kept silent and unmoved by the public humiliation, the King's mad hilarity died down as he leant down on his throne to stare right at you. That glint into his crazy eyes you liked not. "You don't have any other pearls of wisdom left to share with the class, _boy?"_

You almost had to physically refrain your caustic self from shruggling. Instead, you argued with your _most respectful_ tone: "I did what I thought best for the kingdom as usual, Sire. I assumed the thief's talent might be put to good use for the glory of Nohr."

Bullshit, naturally, as Camilla's amused twisting mouth betrayed.

"Nonetheless, you took a life from us," Garon announced with his usual dramatic ways. "You shall give us a life back."

...What? You had no idea what he meant by that. Judging by the pale teint Camilla's fair face had turned into, it couldn't be all that good.

"Father," Xander spoke for the first time since the beginning of the confrontation. "Leo is only eleven."

Iago's condescending smirk turned positively feral at his King's answer.

"So? He's old enough to take decisions _for the glory of Nohr_ , or so he claimed. Bring the prisoner."

And so you finally understood his point, as guards dragged a half-dead already looking man in the middle of the Throne Room under your growing panick. You had refused to kill earlier, so you shall kill now, in front of the whole court. For the glory of Nohr.

Everyone watched you, waiting for you to crack. Xander and Camilla with concern and indignation, the Court with morbid fascination, your father with sadistic contempt.

And the prisoner stared at you with abject resignation.

 _Everyone was watching you_. You had no choice. Or so you told yourself afterwards. It did little to keep away the nighmares of a man perishing from your shaking hand under the crowd's delight.

For the glory of Norh indeed.

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Niles, despite everyone's skepticism including your own, took to his duty as a retainer like a duck to water. In his own very, _very_ special way. Not that you had much experience about proper retainer behavior, but Niles' unique approach to devotion to his master couldn't be the norm, right? _Right?_

"Niles," you fought the urge to burry your head between your hand in a very unprincely manner or go die in the corner or something. "Shall I ask why one of our guest is gagged and bound into my study?"

The youngest son of Lord Riveron, a whining welp of little importance, but still. You could already picture sleepless nights trying to solve yet another diplomatic _faux-pas_. Marvellous. Just what you needed on this fine morning to start the day.

"My Lord!" the white-haired thief greeted you with his trademark leery smirk, unbothered by the compromising position he had been caught in. Unsurprisingly. "You are early. You should sleep more."

The noble frantically struggled in a faint hope to remove his choker and cords. No chance there, Niles was exceedingly good at restraining people. You tried not think about what it meant too closely, as you usually did concerning your retainer's particular talents.

"Niles," you repeated sternly with your 'Too Early For Your Bullshit' voice. "I'm certain there is a very good explanation for this and I'm ready to hear it. Now."

"Certainly my Lord," Niles pinched his most recent victim's cheek, who froze with horror at the contact. "Mister Riveron here expressed very outraging claims towards your Lordship in my presence. I was merely _disciplining_ the brat out of his insolence. For his own sake."

At your raising eyebrow, the so called insolent brat whined in the gag with begging eye towards you. He couldn't be older than sixteen. You were not very impressed, and you told your overachieving servant so. "Niles, you can't kidnap everyone who looks at me the wrong way."

He might have to _discipline_ the whole palace otherwise. You could hardly claim to any popularity price. Though knowing the sadistic bastard he might not even mind.

Niles' pout said 'well, I can _try_ ', but he settled for a more diplomatic approach, for once. "If my Lord says so."

"I do. Now release that poor boy will you?" And wasn't that rich, coming from an twelve year old?

Obediant when it pleased him, Niles dutifully removed the choker with a sigh, and they both waited for the storm.

"Your Highness!" the noble son cried out now that he was free from the gag. "My behaviour was utterly unforgivable, yet I must beg you to forgive me! I only have the most reverent respect for your Highness! I am aware of my own unworthness but please allow me to redeem myself to your eyes!"

You could stare in horror as your retainer smiled down at his victim like a satisfied cat. "And?"

"And your retainer was right to show me the error of my ways," Riveron added with a terrified shudder.

The thief patted the noble's head as you realized only now with not short amount of horror that 'Holy shit, that display was actually Niles' honest-to-God attempt for cheer you up.' Dear Dusk, that guy was seriously _messed up_. You already knew of course, but...wow.

"It's alright," you eventually managed to answer, bemused. "I...forgive you. You may go now."

At your order, Niles finally freed the terrified boy, who all but bolted out of the room, but not without at least two ridiculously low bows at your adress. Your retainer truly unbodied the word 'overkill.'

"Niles, honestly," you frowned as soon as you were alone with your self-congratulating servant. "What if he tells his father?"

You weren't too worried, Lord Riveron was only a minor noble, but still. Iago would all but leap at the tiniest chance to make your life hell. You already saw the groveling and paperwork. So. Much. Paperwork.

"Oh, he won't," Niles laughed darkly. "I know what he likes to do when he go to the whorehouse. Let's just say it don't always involve _ladies_."

And now blackmail. Typical. "You're an awful, awful person."

"I try," he shruggled with false modesty. "My Lord Leo is too nice."

So you had been told before.

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"So, I heard you got yourself a retainer. Congratulations!" Corrin sat next to him with an eager smile on his stupid face.

You rolled your eyes like the moody child you rarely let you act as. "Yes, I'm sure you heard plenty of things about Niles."

His retainer's discutable past alone would have been enough to fuel Krakenburgh gossip mill for a few months. Add to that Niles' well earned reputation as a pervert, his total disrespect to any form authority aside from Leo's, and on smaller scale Xander's and Camilla's, and his bablant lack of morality and standing, and you would get a scandal huge enough to reach even Corrin's isolated Forteress.

Niles, of course, was delighted by his reputation. You only had yourself to blame for your predicament. You could have chosen a normal retainer, like Xander's, but noooo. You had to choose the one who would attract the most attention, and revealed in the awful rumors that followed him.

But the truth was, you never truly regretted your choice, even with the sacrifices you had to make or the problems he brought to you. The unwavering loyalty make the trouble worth it.

And then came _puberty_.


End file.
